Charleston
Farmhouse, Sussex, UK
Charleston Farmhouse door - image from Charleston Farmhouse site
A
conversation between Vanessa Bell and Duncan Grant
Vanessa sighed and looked at Duncan’s back, bent over his
latest oeuvre.
‘Duncan,’ she said, ‘We have painted so many frescos I declare
myself completely devoid of inspiration.’
Duncan’s impatience was barely discernible but she noticed his
slight shrug. His voice, however, was calm, well-modulated when he replied. ‘My
dear, we have been painting this place for more than fifty years. I am positive
you will make a fine choice.’
Vanessa acknowledged the truth of this riposte but sucked the
end of her paintbrush before responding. ‘I confess I sometimes feel we made a
mistake embarking on post-impressionism. It was perhaps a little ambitious.’
Duncan’s shoulders stiffened but he did not turn round. ‘Dear
heart, we have discussed this many times. I am presently involved in the
intricacies of a cupboard door and cannot decide whether to have cherubs or flowers
and thus I cannot engage in further debate until I have reached a conclusion.’
Vanessa pouted, though of course Duncan could not see her
expression. ‘I was only voicing that which was in my mind, Duncan.’
Duncan cocked his head, considering the cupboard door, and
said, ‘Our friends appreciate it. Why, Virginia was saying only the other day
that sitting in our drawing room is like visiting an art gallery.’
‘That may not have been
a compliment,’ suggested Vanessa.
Silence fell. Duncan grunted, a sound that indicated he had
made a decision. Vanessa stared into space. After a few minutes she spoke
again.
‘Duncan, what do you think of this?’
Duncan continued to gild the latest lily. He had decided
against further heavenly bodies for the present.
‘Duncan?’
Duncan rose to his feet, groaning somewhat at the creaking of
his knees and turned to Vanessa. His hands flew to his mouth but were powerless
to smother his shriek of horror.
‘What have you done?’
he gasped.
‘I grew weary of so much busyness,’ she declared, a note of
defiance in her tone. ‘It calms me to rest my eyes on a sea of one colour. It puts
me in mind of a magnolia bloom.’
Duncan glared at the wall, his eyes round with shock. ‘It is so
. . . outré,’ he declared at last.
‘I believe we may start a new movement,’ said Vanessa. ‘You
will see.’
And she was right. Magnolia is the colour of choice in UK for new-build
homes and those being offered for sale or rent.
Thanks
to Tess for this prompt. Go here to read others’ offerings.
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